On the advice of our accountant and out of fear of being sued by stupid, mean people tripping on rocks in our orchard, we incorporated last year. The result netted us a real, live farm name, triggered tons of junk mail, and allowed us to open a separate bank account. We depreciate stuff on our taxes and we file reports with the state. Our accountant snorted when we told him our expected income for the year. We have no employees save ourselves. We’re pretty much as small a business as a small business could be.
But we’re a business, and it is campaign season, so we listen with interest as candidates spit out rhetoric about this and that and talk about how their policies will help or hurt “small business”.
I don’t know which one of us started getting suspicious about this term but I think we finally realized they weren’t talking about us when they started talking about tax cuts for the rich hurting small business, the definition for which is still classed up over into the quarter million dollar a year income mark, and we looked at our miniscule little tax return and its stupid little depreciations and came to terms with the fact that we are not a small business after all.
We’re a microscopic business. Nobody cares about us.
Well, at least not the government. Corporate America wants to give us business credit cards and life insurance for our non-existent employees and pens with our name on it and so on. Maybe they were microscopic too, once. Now they are merely small. Someday, when a supernova occurs and makes room for the next star, one of them will grow to be big. It won’t be us. We suspect that as businesses go, we’ll always be too small to notice.